The Truth: Interludes
by MJ Mink
Summary: Scenes that fit into my story The Truth, written both by me and guest authors. Each is complete in a single chapter. Check back for more!
1. A Disruptive Child

_Coincides with Chapter 12 of The Truth_

A Disruptive Child

By Spirit

"My Lord," a stormtrooper spoke through his tinny-sounding vocoder. "He's up there."

Vader turned to look, concentrating on making his helmet's lenses zoom in on the building that the stormtrooper indicated. It was two-stories high and domed. Crouched at the top, illuminated slightly by the city lights, was the thin, cloaked figure that he'd come to Tatooine to watch.

His hood was down, exposing the boy's hair, which was, Vader noted with consternation, a bright shade of blue. Vader turned his body slightly, focusing more on the figure, noting the good balance on the domed roof. Noting, also, the faint speck of light near the figure's mouth.

When a hand reached from the folds of the cloak and up to the mouth, Vader realized what the light was. It moved with the hand and, faintly, Vader could see a thin stream of smoke expel from the boy's mouth. Vader seethed.

_Spice_, he thought angrily. _My son is using spice._

"My lord," the trooper spoke again, catching Vader's attention. Angrily, Vader turned his head, preparing to light into the trooper. "We think he uses Jedi powers," the trooper continued, and Vader stilled.

"Already?" he demanded, turning again to stare at the figure on the roof.

"Yes, my lord," the trooper repeated. "He does things that no ordinary child can do."

"Like what?" Vader rumbled, his mind racing.

"He's made things...float," the trooper said, almost reluctantly. "Made things fly."

"Indeed," Vader said slowly, focusing on the child - _his_ child - on the roof. "Indeed." Wanting to take a closer look, Vader used the Force to enhance his own vision, and saw for the first time his son's features. Thin, but with a remaining roundness that suggested that, when fully developed and with an adequate diet, his jaw would be strong and his cheeks boyish. As it was, he looked unhealthy and pale - like a spice addict. Vader felt another surge of anger. Of all the vices...

"Here is the information we've been able to collect," the trooper said, offering a datapad to Vader, who accepted and began to study it. It started out with Luke's name, followed by his guardians' names. They were dead, Vader remembered. He'd ordered his troopers to kill them. _Luke Skywalker, Owen and Beru Lars. Age: (sixteen?)._ It continued with his height, his approximate weight, hair color, and eye color. Below that was a list detailing his education. Vader scanned rapidly. The results weren't good. Luke Lars, as he was called, was described as a disruptive child from the very beginning. On his first day of school, he'd screamed at the teacher and hit another child and, when punished, he had promptly burst into tears and run away. Teachers expressed concern that Luke's upbringing wasn't up to par. An small investigation was begun, yielding no results except a very furious guardian.

As the years progressed and Luke's behavior deteriorated, his school teachers tried any and all methods of helping him, punishing him, and trying to get him to open up. Instead of confessing what bothered him, Luke would scream and yell and cry. He didn't make a solid friend until he was almost eleven years old, when he befriended Laze Loneozner. The pair of them started drinking alcohol by the time they were twelve and skipping school in earnest just a few weeks later. His already dismal marks declined even further. The pair of them were later joined by two more children, whose names were not listed. At the age of fourteen, a teacher caught Luke and Loneozner smoking spice. The punishment was swift and fierce, but instead of causing Luke to abandon the drug, he merely shrank even further away from authority. By the time he was fifteen, he spent most of his time either drunk or high, and by the time his guardians were killed, the school hadn't seen or heard from Luke in almost two weeks.

Despite that, as Vader scanned the listed marks he realized that on every test of mathematics and engineering, Luke had scored at least a ninety. On tests of history and politics, his failures were spectacular. Obviously, Vader mused, his son was not as unintelligent as he liked people to think. The subjects he didn't need to study, he aced easily. His dismal grades stemmed mostly from not attending school at all.

Teacher notes spoke of an unhappy, frightened child, and an angry, disruptive teen. _Had_ the Lars couple been harmful? Considering, Vader glanced up at the figure on the roof, watching as the boy let the spice stick fall. His stomped on it, grinding his boot heel into the butt of the stick, then stood there, seeming to stare out over the Wastes, arms folded as if deliberating. _No, _Vader thought. _Something else happened when he was a child. He wasn't harmed physically. Emotionally, perhaps. Maybe even psychologically._

_Something bad happened, though,_ he mused. _Something bad enough to make a five-year-old child lash out defensively at everything around him. Something horrible enough to have repercussions reaching years into the future._

"We've discovered what he's been doing lately, my Lord," the same trooper said tentatively. "He's joined a band of street kids. We've discovered their hideout, and are ready to move when you give the order."

"What does he go by?" Vader demanded.

"Pardon, my Lord?" the trooper asked, startled.

"His name," Vader said. "What do the other children call him?" There was a barely imperceptible pause in the trooper's words, and a faint sense of surprise trickled through the Force from the trooper's direction.

"Oz," the trooper said. "The children call him Oz."

_Oz._

"We questioned his neighbors and close friends," the trooper went on. "Specifically, one Laze Loneozner. Nothing resulted from the interrogation, but we later discovered that Skywalker uses an ID with Loneozner's name. We are unsure at this time if it was given willingly, or if he stole it."

"It does not matter," Vader said. "Leave this Loneozner alone. He has had no contact with the boy for months."

"Yes, my Lord," the trooper said smartly, then took a step back. His breath hissing through his respirator, Vader looked up at the youngster once more, just in time to see him turn and stride off the roof nonchalantly. He simply walked off, as if treading down a step. A trickle through the Force alerted Vader to its use, and he smiled behind his mask.

"Surround the children's hideout," he ordered, turning abruptly. "But do not harm them. Alert Family Services. I want the boy unharmed."

"Yes, Lord Vader," the squad chorused, and immediately moved away to converse. Vader turned to glance once more at the now empty roof.

_Soon,_ he thought to himself. _Soon, I will have you, Oz. Or should I say, my son... Luke Skywalker._


	2. Spicer

_This fits into "The Truth" between chapters 29 and 30_

**Spicer**

By _Spirit_

Captain Piett hadn't met a young man like Luke Skywalker since he'd been a mere boy on Axxila, studying hard to be accepted into the Imperial Academy. A drinker and a drug addict, the boy that Piett remembered had swiftly ruined himself, pushing away any help that was offered.

What virtues this one had, Piett had no idea.

Of course, he might just be biased right now – he was, after all, staring at a gaping hole in the heating ducts on his beloved ship – but he didn't think so.

It took a lot of effort, but he managed to school the look of fury from his face and replace it with a sternly expressionless one. He wasn't sure how well he succeeded, but it was the effort that counted.

_Why, _he wondered to himself, _is this child here aboard my ship?_

A glance at Vader reminded him once more. _Right. Force user, _he thought grimly. Why in the galaxy the Emperor wanted _this _particular boy…Piett had no idea, and had the odd feeling he wasn't meant to. So he rigidly suppressed his irritation enough to lead the little spicer to the detention level, feeling a brief flash of satisfaction at that. It died a quick death, though, because just before the secure hatch closed, Piett glimpsed the mulish expression fade from that youthful face, replaced with an expression of abject misery and confusion.

He got the feeling that not even Luke knew why he was here.

The next time Piett saw the boy he was dressed in a strange outfit that Piett dimly remembered from Republic days – a uniform of black and brown with an odd sort of wrap around the torso. He was standing beside Lord Vader with a sullen expression that periodically flickered with anxiety and indecision, augmented by the jerky movements and an unknowing wrinkling of the Lord Vader's cloak. Piett had to pinch his lips together to make them stop twitching as the pair stopped beside him, Vader's hand reaching down to pry the boy's fingers off.

"My lord," Piett greeted, nodding his head respectfully. "Luke," he added, giving the boy a tight smile.

"Hi, Cap," Luke replied, smiling back. Piett quelled the urge to grin broadly, feeling like a teenager again. He glanced up at Lord Vader, seeing him staring down at the boy with what looked like a glare under his mask. Luke seemed to feel the look, because he shrank a little and uneasiness crept into his eyes, and Piett observed as his hand automatically reached out to grasp the black cloak again as Vader nodded in reply to Piett's greeting and started to move off. An Ensign coughed, and Piett shot him a sharp look, seeing the young man struggling to hide an amused smile.

For several moments, Piett observed that the boy seemed to be genuinely trying to behave. He struggled a little bit, and Piett could see him longing to say something, but the only time he did was when someone greeted him with words.

Then it all went downhill.

With alarm, Piett saw the boy step away from Vader's side and examine a small button on one of the empty consoles. His alarm grew when Luke lifted a hand, and he stepped forward quickly.

"My lord – " he started, but it was too late, and Piett saw the finger push the button down.

Instantly, an alarm echoed through the bridge, and various tiny holes in the wall appeared, their lids sliding away from them. A moment later, decontam foam was spilling from the holes, and emergency masks were falling from the ceiling.

Instinctively, Piett grabbed one and yanked the strap over his head, feeling the effects of the decontam foam immediately. The rest of the crew followed suit…except – Piett stilled in alarm – Luke.

The boy was looking around him in shock, one hand flailing out to his side as his balance went off kilter from the effects. In two quick strides, Piett yanked another mask from its string and arrived at the boy's side, quickly shoving the mask into place on his face. A moment later, an Ensign turned off the klaxon and a ringing silence fell.

"Whoops."

Piett had to close his eyes against an involuntary laugh, one hand still grasping the boy's shoulder, the other pressing the mask over Luke's mouth, feeling the vibrations of the word. A moment later, a loud noise filled the silence…a sort of gurgling grumble…and Piett really did grin this time behind his mask.

Luke's stomach had growled.

His face flushed immediately behind the mask, and he tilted his head back to give Piett an embarrassed shrug, and then a black-gloved hand fastened around his upper arm and yanked him backwards.

"What," Vader asked slowly, his voice an ominous rumble, "part of 'Do everything I say' don't you understand?"

"I did everything you said!" Luke said indignantly, and then added, after a heartbeat, "I just did a little extra, as well."

As they spoke, Piett saw out of the corner of his eye as the maintenance crew swiftly cleaned up the decontam foam and spraying air-cleaner around the bridge. Within moments, the air was clean. He turned back to see Luke wrinkling the cloak again.

"You," Vader snarled, pointing a finger at the teenager, "are reckless. Come." The black-armored man turned abruptly, striding away. Luke gave Piett a desolate look, and pulled off his mask to follow.

"Thanks, Cap," he said quietly, and hurried away. "Hey, wait," he called. "Ah – sir! Waaaii-aaaiiiit!"

Lord Vader ignored him, his dark cloak billowing out behind him in a swirl of dark cloud, perfectly pressed and spotless.

Except, Piett noticed, one edge, which was badly crumpled, as if a young hand had wrinkled it between the fingers for too long.

Piett had to turn away in his struggle to contain his smile.


	3. Fabulous

Based on a Kenya Starflight's suggestion for a Challenge Fic to the Luke-Vader Writers list on Yahoo Groups: Luke or Vader must wear a dress and contain the phrase "I can't wait to see what insert name here is wearing!".

**The Truth: Interlude: Fabulous!**

**By MJ Mink**

"A 'social evening'?" Luke repeated. "Great! We had those in Anchorhead a couple times a year. Games, dancing—but how do you do it here? I mean, with all these guys and no girls?"

The black helmet turned slowly toward him. Vader was silent for several seconds, causing Luke to squirm, then he sighed. "Go study," he repeated wearily, like he'd had a long hard day.

Luke rolled his eyes. "Fine! Don't answer my questions, who cares? I don't know how I'm supposed to learn anything when you won't answer my questions!"

Naturally, his father didn't reply. With a final glare, Luke stomped out of Vader's quarters. Captain Piett was hovering in the corridor.

"Luke!" he exclaimed, startled for no good reason that Luke could see. "Are you all ri-- I mean, what're you-- Hello."

"Hi," he replied glumly, then tilted his head to look at the Imperial officer. "Are you going to the dance tonight?"

"Dance?" Piett repeated.

"The social evening, remember?" he reminded. "Who do guys dance with when there are no girls around? Each other?"

"Well…." Piett was staring, his mouth hanging open in an unbecoming manner. He must have realized that, because he snapped it closed. "I don't believe we've ever—"

"And what do you wear?" Luke continued. "Do, like, half the guys wear dresses and pretend to be girls?" He looked expectantly at the captain. "Hah! You didn't figure that part out, did you? Good thing _somebody_ is thinking ahead! I'll bet the replicator can make dresses. I have to get to work if there's gonna be enough dresses by tonight!"

He hurried off, not caring that the captain didn't bother to answer him. He was _so_ used to that from grownups.

- - -

It was lucky that he was handy with machinery, otherwise reprogramming the replicator might have been a chore. It wasn't too hard to get it to make skirts instead of pants. There was just that one tiny problem that worried him... when he'd answered 'yes' to 'set global', was it just for this job… or did that mean he'd reset all the replicators on the ship? Oh, surely not, who would invent a computer that stupid?

"Okay, let's give it a try. For me... let's match my eyes." He programmed in 'silk' and 'blue' and, for good measure, added 'handsome' so he wouldn't get ruffles. Then he began entering selections for more dresses, varying the lengths and widths so they'd fit everyone. Not that he had time to make them for everyone-- not even a gazillionth of the guys on the ship would have them, but maybe he could make enough for the officers.

And, for the heck of it, he set the replicator to make a really, really big black gown for his dad.

Then he settled back on his bed, fingers interlaced behind his head, waiting to see what the replicator would send up.

- - -

All that work had worn him out, so it wasn't surprising that he fell asleep. An annoyingly persistent buzz woke him. He stood, staggered over to his desk and slapped the intercom switch. "This better be good!"

"You are late for your trigonometry review," a voice scolded.

Luke grimaced. "Uh... I've been busy, Dad, I didn't get a chance to study trig-- but I've been working on language and-- and programming!" he added quickly, lest his dad think he was lazy. "I wasn't being dilatory or indolent!"

"I have instructed you many times about my expectations with regard to--"

"I know! But I worked hard on programming." Time for a subject change. "Hey, what're you wearing to the dance tonight? I made something for you."

There was that annoying silence again. But after a few seconds, Vader said, "I do not attend _social evenings._ It would not be appropriate. It is a time for the men to participate in games of chance, view approved Holonet broadcasts, and otherwise squander valuable time in absurdities and hedonistic over-indulgences."

"Huh. Sounds like a blast." That was disappointing, but maybe his dad could wear the dress for another party some day. "But I can go, right?"

"Certainly not!" his father huffed. "You are not a member of the ship's complement! There would be too many questions about your identity and purpose."

"Okay," he murmured meekly. "I guess I'll just stay in and study trig tonight. May I take the test tomorrow, please, sir?"

"I will allow that—this time," Vader said, sounding like he was doing Luke a big favor. "Good evening to you."

"Bye!" Luke said brightly, snapping off the intercom and hurrying toward the delivery chute. Time to see how the replicator had performed!

- - -

Luke stripped off his shirt and pulled the gown over his head, struggling to get his arms in the sleeves without having to unhook the top. He turned in a circle, holding the skirt out, and stopped in front of the mirror. He looked great! It wasn't real silk, just some synthetic, but the dress looked a lot like the ones the senators wore in vids. Even in the very old vids, when Palpy wasn't so ugly and he was Chancellor. Maybe the fabric wasn't as fancy as rich people wore, but it was good enough for the ship's dance.

The other dresses were heaped on his bed, bright colors spilling onto the floor like hair dye. If he had blue dye he could color his hair to match the dress. The thought made him homesick for Mos Eisley, but only for a second. Luke thumbed the com. "Captain Piett, please. Luke calling."

- - -

He must look even better than he'd thought because Cap couldn't stop staring at him.

"You're not serious," Piett said. Then he added uncertainly: "Are you?"

"Duh, yes!" Luke exclaimed. "It took longer than I thought. I only had time to make a few dozen, so you decide who should wear them. This one," he pawed through the pile of dresses until he found the gold and green satin, "I made specially for you!"

"Thank you," the captain said weakly, not accepting the dress until Luke pushed it against his chest. He barely looked at it. "Your hard work is appreciated. However, I really don't believe that Lord Vader would approve of--"

"Are you kidding?" Luke countered, deciding he needed to fib a little—just to be encouraging. "Look at this! This is _his!"_ He waved the huge black gown like a flag.

Piett took a step backward, his eyes widening with what appeared to be dismay. "Lord Vader is going to wear a-- a _dress?"_

"It's not a dress, it's a Senatorial robe," he said with offended dignity. "Take yours, for example. Those are the governmental colors of-- of Kashyyk."

"They are?" Piett asked doubtfully.

Luke nodded. Since he'd already fibbed once, a few more wouldn't matter. "Yeah. You'd better go get ready. And find some guys to wear the other dr-- robes. Can you carry them all yourself?" He piled them over the captain's arms, hastily throwing the black one back on his bed.

"I'll... manage, thank you, Luke." Piett left, his arms loaded, trailing dresses behind him. He had that bantha-in-the-laser-sight look, but that was probably because he'd never seen such wonderful clothes before.

"Guess they don't have socials all that often," Luke mused, and vowed to encourage his father to allow more of them. But that was for later. Right now, he had to finish getting ready. He didn't want to be late for all the excitement!

- - -

Well, 5-West wasn't the best place for a party—it was all gray durasteel—but no one had consulted Luke about how to throw a great party. After tonight, though, they'd be sure to ask him, and he was certain he could think up amazing party stuff.

"Is this _fabulous_ or what?" an older lieutenant exclaimed as he spun, flame-red chiffon swirling. "I love the way it feels against my bare legs."

The officers clustered around him nodded. "Fabulous! Why didn't I get a costume?" someone complained.

"I can't wait to see what Lord Vader is wearing!" another lieutenant whispered loudly.

"I hear it's black."

"Of course!"

"Can you imagine if INN got hold of a holo of that?"

"We could sell it for a fortune."

"Somebody get a holocam!"

The group of men dissolved into laughter that they struggled to stifle when Piett appeared.

"Gentlemen."

"Hi, Cap!" Luke said happily. "You look great, except… well, I dunno about the cap, Cap."

"I felt I should remain at least partly in uniform," Piett said seriously, touching the brim of his Imperial-issue military cap.

"The blaster strapped around your waist doesn't really go either." Luke forced the frown off his face. "It's getting the fabric all wrinkly."

Piett looked down, tugging the material loose from his belt. "Better?"

Luke nodded, then looked across the crowded lounge. "Oh-oh."

The captain's eyes widened with alarm, which seemed an extreme response to such a small sound. "What?" he demanded. "It's not Lord-- Oh."

Three officers were paused in the doorway, all clad in their everyday Imperial gray, except…. "Kinda gives new meaning to 'dress uniform', doesn't it?" Luke grinned widely.

"Oh, my stars, those are our new uniforms?" The older lieutenant gestured for the newcomers to join them. "Where did you get those? They're fabulous!"

"Fabulous!" Luke echoed.

A blond officer shrugged. "This is what arrived when I ordered a new uniform. It wasn't what I was expecting, but I'll say this—it's comfortable, and I can really move in it." He demonstrated a few fighting stances, even strutting in military cadence to the admiration of his compatriots.

His dad was right—he really _could_ make a difference in the galaxy, and not just because he was a Junior Jedi. "The guys seem to like the new uniforms," he commented proudly.

"Some more than others," Piett agreed, clasping his hands behind his back in parade rest.

Luke laughed, then abruptly sobered. "Oh, look, there's my… uh, teacher."

Everyone turned. "Lord Vader!" someone exclaimed, and they scattered like sand blown in the wind.

Except Captain Piett, who remained by Luke's side as the thundercloud bore down on them.

"Hi, sir," Luke said.

Vader folded his arms. "Captain Piett. I am disappointed. I thought you would have had the good sense not to become involved in such a hair-brained scheme as this young one has thought up."

"Hey," Luke protested, but very softly.

Piett cleared his throat. "Milord," he acknowledged in an apologetic tone. He paused.

Vader was pausing, too. Everyone seemed to be pausing. Maybe it was contagious. Luke realized that _someone_ had to fill the silence.

"I think everyone looks great—_fabulous_, even! And," he raised his hand to prevent his dad's pending interruption, "I know what you're thinking. You're thinking these are dresses—they're not! They're replicas of Senatorial robes."

"They are dresses."

"They're robes!"

"If I may, milord," Piett interjected, "I believe the lad is correct. My robes, for example, represent the official colors of Kashyyk."

Vader was silent for a very long moment, then: "Kashyyk does not have official colors."

Piett looked at Luke. Luke smiled guiltily. "It seemed like a good idea at the time," he offered as explanation.

_"You!"_ Vader roared, pointing at an officer unfortunate enough to pass through his line of sight. "What is the meaning of _that?"_

"It's—it's our new uniform, my lord," the man managed to squeak. "I just—I sent in a request for a clean uniform and—and this is what I got!"

The Dark Lord looked down at Luke.

Luke pretended not to notice, until a big hand clamped around his forearm. "Okay, okay! Well… there was this 'global' setting and I didn't know what it meant, so I figured I should say 'yes' because 'no' might really screw things up, so…. I said 'yes', but I guess that wasn't…uh, one of my better ideas." He smiled weakly. "Sorry."

"Come with me," Vader hissed, keeping a firm grip on his arm. "Captain Piett! Get the men out of those ridiculous dresses—"

Someone giggled.

Vader whirled, searching for the culprit. Luke peered with him, but only a sea of serious (and terrified) faces was visible.

The Sith uttered something that sounded like a growl. "—and repair the replicator—_immediately!"_

- - -

They were moving so fast, and his father was keeping such a tight hold on his arm, that Luke was sliding along the polished floor—which, under other circumstances, would have been fun, and he made a mental note to try it later. Maybe in socks. Or maybe he could build a sort of sled to—

"I do not understand what chaos is in that head of yours! To wear a dress!" Vader raved, drawing interested, hastily averted glances from passing soldiers. "Disgraceful!"

"It's not a _dress!"_ Luke protested, trying to shake free. "Okay, so it's not a Senatorial robe! It's a-- a _nightshirt!_ I'm going to bed!"

"You certainly are," his father stated grimly, tightening his grip. "And you will remain in your room until I decide that you can be behave in an adult manner." Vader stopped in front of Luke's quarters, pounded the door release, and shoved Luke inside. "Which should be in about twenty years."

"Fabulous!" he called as the door slid closed, and there he was, locked in his room forever… but his frown turned into a grin when he realized what that meant.

No trig test tomorrow!

…End…


	4. A Certain Point of View

Truth Interlude : A Certain Point of View

by jedinemo

- - - - -

"Da-aad," Luke called as he entered his father's quarters. "Oh, Da-aad."

There was no response from within the room. He looked at his chrono. Wow, for once he had managed to get himself out of bed so that he was actually _early_ to one of their father-son lessons. Must be because it was going to be a flying lesson.

He tried one more time. "Dad?"

"Luke," he heard his father say, but the sound was muffled. He walked towards the back of the room, following his father's voice. Once he got in the vicinity of the 'fresher he could hear the sound of the sonic shower.

"Are you in there, Dad?" he said.

"I'll be out shortly," his father said. "Work on your navigation exercises. And don't touch anything."

He wrinkled his nose, and mumbled under his breath. "And don't touch anything."

"Sure thing," he said for his father's benefit.

He returned to the living area and plopped himself down on the couch, which was black with silver trim, just like all the other furnishings in the room. He sighed. This must be one of those lessons in patience that his father was always trying to teach him. Hmmm, if the real lesson was patience, then maybe he didn't have to work on his hyperspace calculations, he just had to keep himself out of trouble for a little while. That shouldn't be too hard.

He'd never had a chance to be in his father's room before without dear old dad looming over him. He got up and wandered over to the desk in the corner. Besides the datapad and a report titled "Insurgent Activity in the Outer Rim", there wasn't much there. Pretty boring. He pulled open a drawer and his breath caught when it made a scraping noise. He froze, and was relieved when he still heard the sound of the shower coming from the 'fresher.

The interior of the drawer was mostly empty, except for a snowglobe like the ones sold at every tourist spot in the Galaxy. He picked it up carefully. Inside were ornate buildings unlike any he had ever seen before. At the bottom it said only "Theed". He shook it to see the fake snow swirl all around the buildings of Theed, wherever that was. Maybe he would look it up on a starchart someday. He returned it to the drawer, which he shut very slooowly to make sure it didn't make a sound.

He looked around the room. Nothing much else to see, not even any pictures, unless he counted the production images from Kuat Drive Yards. Maybe he was going to have to just sit down and work on his calculations after all. He was headed back to the couch when a thought struck him. Wait a minute. If his father was in the 'fresher, then the armored suit must not be on his father.

He tiptoed back towards the 'fresher and peered into its anteroom. Sure enough, the pieces that made up the suit were laid neatly on the counter. The lenses of the helmet glared up at him as he reached forward, but he couldn't resist touching the suit. The leather felt soft and flexible under his fingertips, making him wonder what it would be like to wear it.

He chewed his lip for a minute. What would it hurt if he tried it on for a few minutes? Hadn't he always wanted to know what it was like to be his dad?

He pulled the padded pants silently off the counter and slipped them on. Even over his own clothing they were loose, and his feet didn't even show at the ends of the legs. Hmmm, he wouldn't be able to walk with the pants like this. He pulled up each pant leg in turn and removed his own shoes, then put on the tall boots, stuffing the excess fabric inside of them.

There, that was better. Except that the waist was so loose it was going to fall down if he moved much at all. Well, that was what the belt was for, wasn't it ? He picked it off the counter and clipped it on. This was feeling not too bad, not bad at all. He looked cautiously at the door that led into the 'fresher, but the frequency of the sonic vibrations was unchanged.

He pulled the top half of the suit over his head, mouthing a silent "Oww!" as the electronic box on the front clunked him on the forehead and something else whacked him on the back as it went down. He looked at the remaining pieces on the counter and tried to think of how everything looked when it was on his father. He put on the tabards, and refastened the belt around them. As he clipped the shinguards over the boots and swung the breastplate onto his shoulders, he kept thinking he'd have to get up a whole lot earlier in the morning if he had to put all of this on every day.

He brought the collar piece over his head and felt the lining snug up against his neck. Next he slipped on the gloves. That left only the helmet. He stared at it for a moment, and it stared back. This was it. One last piece of armor to put on and then he'd look just like his dad. Too bad there weren't any mirrors around so that he could see himself.

He guided the helmet carefully over his head, but it wouldn't go down all the way. He tried to press it on further, but it hit against the neck piece. He grabbed the helmet on either side and twisted it back and forth and then all of sudden it clicked into place. His breath echoed inside the mask and he realized he couldn't see anything. At all.

He tried to take the helmet off, but whatever he had done, it was now securely locked in place. His face felt flushed and a sense of panic crept in. No matter how hard he pulled, the helmet wouldn't budge. He spun around in the darkness and crashed into the counter. The belt began to hum at his waist, followed by the electronic box on his chest, and then whatever was on his back started to warm up, too. A blast of air hit him in the face, making him yell in surprise.

"Luke!" his father said. "What's going on out there?"

"Nothing," he said, except that it didn't sound like him at all, but almost like his dad.

"Are you wearing my helmet?" Vader asked.

"No," he said, his new voice giving him away immediately. "Yes."

"Well, take it off," his father demanded.

"I can't," he said. "It's stuck. Can you come help me?"

"I thought I told you not to touch anything!" his father said.

"I'm sorry," he said. " Please help me take it off."

"I can't," his father said. "You will have to figure it out yourself. Remember to twist as you pull up."

"I already tried that," he said. "Why can't you help me?"

"I need pressurized air to breathe," his father said. "And if you are wearing the helmet, then I have to stay in here."

Oh. He hadn't thought of that. "So what am I supposed to do?"

"You will have to go find Captain Piett," his father said. "He has helped me on occasion when the helmet has been stubborn."

He sighed. At least he didn't feel so hot anymore, not with the suit blowing air in his face all the time. And he could see something now. It was not exactly like seeing with his own eyes, but more like looking at a vid screen. He started to walk out of the room but crashed into the wall.

"Oops," he said, correcting his path.

"Are you going?" Vader said.

"Yes, Dad," he replied.

"And hurry up," his father said. "I have work to do. I can't stay in here all day."

"On my way," he said, starting to get the hang of walking while looking at the helmet lenses. It was almost like playing one of those vid games that his dad hated so much.

With only a few changes in direction he was able to make it to the front door of his father's quarters. As he walked down the corridor he noticed that he was able to change the display in the helmet by blinking rapidly. He could make it zoom in, or change the contrast, or have it show all kinds of data, like the temperature. Pretty cool.

He also noticed that the crew members in the hallway kept far away from him. All he had to do was turn his head towards any one of them and their eyes dropped to the floor. Was this what it was like every day for his dad? To know everyone was completely afraid of him? That seemed so lonely. Surely his father couldn't enjoy that.

Just ahead of him a technician in a flight suit was walking towards him, body glued to the wall to keep maximum distance between them.

"Hi," he said, giving the technician a friendly wave.

The technician's eyes became very large and his mouth fell open, right before he broke into a sprint down the hallway. Not exactly the effect he was going for.

As he continued down the corridor, he heard several voices engaged in strong discussion, something about tactical maneuvers against the Rebellion. He paused outside the door to listen, then hit the control button. Every crew member inside froze as he entered the room, even the grey haired officer that stood at the front, his pointer stuck against the display screen.

"Good job, men," he said. "Keep it up."

There was a clatter as the officer's pointer fell to the floor, but that was the only sound for several moments.

"Thank you, Lord Vader," the officer said, finally recovering enough to speak.

Now that was more like it. He spun on his heel and headed for the elevator that would take him to the bridge, and hopefully to Captain Piett. When the elevator doors opened, a crush of crew members started to spill out, but they all stopped when they saw him.

"Good day to you," he said in his almost Vader voice.

The crew members looked at each other, and then someone in the back answered, "Good day to you, m'lord."

Some of them even smiled when they exited the elevator. Much better than the reaction he had been getting earlier. Just think of all the improvements he could make if he had enough time.

The elevator stopped at the top level, opening onto the bridge. He strode out in his best imitation of his father, though walking fast made the armored breastplate teeter back and forth over his shoulders. To his relief, Captain Piett stood at the front of the bridge.

The captain turned his eyes to him and a deep furrow appeared in his forehead. Piett clasped his hands behind his back and walked towards him slowly.

"Aren't you a little short for a Dark Lord?" Piett said.

"No, it's me. Luke," he said.

The captain threw his hand over the mouthpiece of the mask and looked quickly around the bridge. "Ssshhh."

"I need your help," he said through Piett's fingers.

Piett removed his hand. "Keep it down. And where is Lord Vader?"

"He's, uh, in the 'fresher until I can get the helmet off. But it's stuck," he explained.

Piett coughed and then suppressed a smile that threatened to break loose. "Well, then we had better hurry, hadn't we?"

------

Through the projection on the lenses he could see Piett's hands reaching forward and then he felt the helmet twist sharply. It was dark for a moment, but then the helmet slipped over his head and he found himself blinking in the light.

"Thanks," he said, surprised to hear his own voice again. "It feels good to take that off."

"You have successfully removed the helmet, Piett?" Vader said from within the shower.

"Yes, m'lord," Piett said. "The boy had it on there pretty tight."

"Then you may return to the bridge," Vader said. "Luke, apologize to Captain Piett for disrupting his duties."

He looked into Piett's face. "Sorry, Captain."

Piett nodded in acceptance before turning around and heading out of the cabin.

"Now put everything back _exactly_ how you found it," Vader said. "And don't touch anything else."

"Are we still going flying?" he asked hopefully.

"And _why_ should I reward you after this?" Vader said.

"Because I helped you out," he said, pulling the neck piece and the breastplate over his head.

"What do you mean?" his father said.

"You'll see," he said as unclipped the belt and slid off the tabards.

"First we will see if you are able to follow instructions," Vader said. "Go sit down and wait for me."

He finished sliding off the boots and the pants and arranged all the other pieces of the suit carefully on the counter.

"All yours," he called through the 'fresher door.

He walked back to the couch and laid down, remembering to keep his shoes off the cushions. He heard the 'fresher door slide open, followed by rustling noises and then the sound of the door shutting. When the ventilator started up and he heard the door open again, he sat up quickly and put his feet on the floor. At the sound of his father's footsteps, he squared his shoulders back and clasped his hands in his lap.

His father appeared in front of him. "What possessed you to put on my armor?"

He stood up and looked his father right in the lenses. "I wanted to know what it felt like to be you."

Vader didn't answer.

He looked away from his father. "It was a lot harder than I thought it would be."

After a moment he felt his father's hand on top of his shoulder. "We'd better hurry if we're still going to have flight time," Vader said.

As they walked out of the cabin into the corridor, a passing lieutenant waved at them.

"Good day to you, Lord Vader," the officer said.

The black helmet silently tracked the lieutenant's progress down the hall. His father then turned to him. "What exactly did you do on your way to find Piett?"

He grinned. "Nothing much. Just a little P.R."

- - - End - - -


End file.
